The Marauders
by IdleWit
Summary: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. A recount of the mischevious Marauders adventures at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under Albus Dumbledore.
1. The Pitiful and Bigheaded House of Black

**The Most Pitiful and Bigheaded House of Filthy Black**

A boy sat in a dark room, staring gloomily at an object at the foot of his bed. The room around him seemed to reflect his mood. It had faded and peeling paper, its dark tones matching his four poster beds deep red hangings. It was peppered with all sorts of items, from candy wrappers to spare bits of parchment and broken quills and looked like it had not been cleaned in many weeks.

The boy was rather tall but could only have been around the age of eleven or ten; his black hair fell into his eyes in an elegant manner. He was quite handsome, his features rather distinguished, his eyes had the potential to be a warm brown, though right now they were dark and bitter. He wore fine clothes, a nice dress shirt, black pants and a tie, obviously it was some sort of special occasion though the scruffy way he wore the clothes detracted the eye from their superior quality. A black polished trunk sat at the end of his bed, secured neatly. It was at this trunk that the boy was casting such gloomy looks, as if it was irritating him in some manner.

Suddenly his there was a knock on his door and a croaky high voice sounded, "Young Master Sirius dinner is served."

The boy looked towards it angrily, "Leave me alone," he growled raising his voice so the creature on the other end could hear.

The creature knocked once more smartly, "Young Master Sirius mistress has sent me to call you to dinner."

"Leave me alone," Sirius snarled once more fiercely this time, turning his back on the door and glaring furiously at the peeling wallpaper as if _it _was bothering him.

These words did not seem to dissuade the creature on the other end whatsoever, and was a slight click his room door creaked open and the boy fiercely looked towards it. At first glance it appeared as if it had opened on its own accord, but when one turned their eyes down from a person's height and looked closer to the floor, one could see a wizened old creature with a large nose, drooping ears and a mouth much like a snout.

"That door was locked," snapped the boy rising angrily, "I thought I told you not to come in here…You have no right…you just can't walk in …you don't…go away!"

"Young Master Sirius," rasped the house elf as he tugged up his forever slipping white loin cloth and looked up at the boy, Sirius with eyes enveloped in folds of his loose hanging skin. "Mistress told Kreacher that he must bring you down to dinner."

Sirius glared down at the house elf, "She did, did she?" he hissed vehemently, "Well Kreacher you can go tell my dear mother that I don't want stupid dinner."

"You don't mean that Young Master Sirius," Kreacher rasped looking up at him with knowing eyes. They both knew that Sirius would never dare tell his mother that, nor would Kreacher ever relay such a message to his dear Mistress. "Now Mistress told Kreacher he must make sure Young Master Sirius comes down to dinner, and Kreacher will do what Mistress wants, but Kreacher does not want to force Young Master Sirius, no he doesn't."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to say 'I'd like to see you try,' but he held his tongue. He knew the capabilities and powers of a house elf. If ordered to do something, especially by his mother, Kreacher would go to any lengths to see it done.

Sirius settled for saying, "Oh he doesn't does he," in an aloof tone.

"No Kreacher does not Young Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked, looking up at him almost adoringly, "Kreacher does not want to hurt Young Master Sirius. No Kreacher likes Young Master Sirius, yes, Kreacher does. Kreacher has watched Young Master Sirius grow up from a baby, and shares the pride now Young Master Sirius is going to Hogwarts to continue to add honor and glory the proud and noble house of Black. "

Sirius said nothing to this, though he turned away from Kreacher and cast another gloomy glance towards the black trunk on his bed.

"Though Kreacher knew Young Master Sirius was not as happy as he should have been when he got his letter no, Kreacher noticed Young Master Sirius sulking more then usual up in his room, Young Master Sirius seemed….sad…."

"I'm not _sad_ Kreacher," snarled Sirius furiously, quickly turning towards the house elf.

"No Young Master Sirius says he is not sad, but what then Young Master Sirius if not sad?" Kreacher continued, "Kreacher wonders…maybe Kreacher can help Young Master Sirius? Maybe Young Master Sirius is worried about school…"

"Maybe," muttered Sirius mutinously looking down at his feet, having a moment of weakness, "But you can't repeat that to anyone Kreacher…Not to anyone," he added hotly glaring at Kreacher.

Kreacher did not answer to this but continued gravely. "Maybe Young Master Sirius could tell Kreacher what he is worried about…"

"What so mother can hear," Sirius said angrily, "I don't think so Kreacher."

"Young Master Sirius underestimates Kreacher," said the house-elf rather sadly, "Young Master Sirius does not trust Kreacher, not like his brother Young Master Regulus."

"Oh yes _perfect_ Regulus," Sirius spat vehemently, "Why don't you go talk to him then Kreacher if he's so wonderful!"

"Young Master Sirius is in a temper, but Kreacher takes no offence. Kreacher is here only to serve the proud…"

"And noble house of Black," growled Sirius ending Kreacher's sentence for him and rolling his eyes.

"Kreacher knows his feeling are inconsequential but he feels sad that Young Master Sirius feels as if he cannot trust Kreacher, feels as if Kreacher would betray his secrets when Kreacher would never think never, ever, ever, of doing such a thing."

"Yeah well," muttered Sirius looking down at his feet in a rather abashed manner, his anger gone. "Whatever Kreacher…I just don't really want to talk to anyone okay, not right now."

"Young Master Sirius must come down to dinner though," Kreacher rasped, "Kreacher has made all his favorite foods in celebration of the eve of going away to school. Kreacher has been making steak and chocolate éclairs and chicken and turkey and…"

"All right, all right Kreacher," Sirius cut across hastily. "I'll come down to dinner, just give me a moment okay, you know how they get when I don't come down looking all noble."

"Young Master Sirius promises he will come down?" Kreacher asked looking up at Sirius.

"Yes, yes I promise," Sirius muttered grudgingly, "Your task is done now, you can go tell mother I'll be down in a second."

Kreacher gave a low bow then moved towards the door in shuffling steps, he paused however as Sirius watched his progress, and turned to him once more.

"Kreacher thinks Young Master Sirius should not be worried about school," Kreacher said slowly, "Kreacher is very stupid, but Kreacher does know that Young Master Sirius will do well in school. Kreacher knows Young Master Sirius will be a credit to the proud and noble house of Black, and will show Mistress that he is worthy of the name so Mistress will no longer be upset and nor will Young Master Sirius and the Master's and Mistress Black will all be content again and Kreacher can serve you all. So Young Master Sirius should rest his worries, because he will do great things in Slytherin, Kreacher know because he is a Black."

Kreacher, obviously thinking he had been comforting Sirius in some way, shuffled out of the room closing the door behind him.

Sirius stared at it, and all the frustration since he had received the letter from Hogwarts and his mother and father had ranted and raved about family honor, and Slytherin and the 'right sort of people'. All the anxiety he had secretly been harboring that no would like him _because _he was a Black, and he would have to hang out with people like his family till the end of his days seemed to burst to the surface.

"No I won't," he roared grabbing a stray old shoe from the floor and throwing it at the door. "I won't be in Slytherin, I won't be noble and proud, I won't hang out with the right sort, I won't uphold the stupid name of the most pitiful and bigheaded house of filthy Black!"

He grabbed the shiny black trunk and dragged over the bed so it fell to the floor, it burst open revealing neatly packaged robes, shoes and items, all purchased and packed by Kreacher. Sirius gave the loathing thing a good kick and then howled with pain, holding his foot and hopping. He quickly fell on his bed and nursed his pounding foot. Finally after the pain had subsided he looked gloomily at the dank dark room that he had lived in for ten years. He doubted very much with his name, he would feel anymore at home in Hogwarts then he did here.

"I wonder if I could lie and say I'm someone else," he said aloud to the room at large, slightly hopeful. Getting up he moved towards an old grimy mirror (he hadn't let Kreacher in to clean in a while now). He looked at his reflection and scowled, feeling gloomy once more, there was no mistaking his features, he was a Black and no matter if he called himself Donald Boogin, dyed his hair to bright orange and put on an accent there was no mistaking it.

"Sirius," came his mother's shrieking voice from downstairs, "Stop sulking you foul boy and get down here at once, now!"

Sirius looked darkly at the mirror at the sound of his mother's voice. He remembered the argument they had that morning over breakfast which had led to his surly mood. For it seemed Kreacher was the only one that had confidence that Sirius would do anything remotely worthwhile in school. His mother had told him that morning she was surprised the school had even taken him, the stupid boy that he was. She carried on about staying away from 'Mudbloods' and at least trying to make the right connections and move in the right crowds though she did not expect much from him, no she made it clear it would be Regulus she was expecting all the honor and glory from. She made it fairly clear that the only worthwhile thing she was expecting from him really was to get in Slytherin, there was no question about that, the Black's had been in Slytherin for centuries.

"I'm such a failure am I," he growled to the mirror thinking of his mother's words, "I'm a stupid boy am I. Well I don't want to be there kind of winner, with all their stupid pure blood stuff, just because were Blacks everyone else is rubbish. Well if I don't want to make them proud, no I hope I'm a disgrace to them. I hope I'm not even in Slytherin," Sirius growled to the dirty mirror vehemently, "Actually I hope I'm in Gryffindor! Yeah…" he said grinning slightly as he imagined his parents looks if he was in Gryffindor. "Yeah and then maybe they'll disown me…Good, because I hate the stupid house of Black….I might even start disgracing her right now, why wait till school?"

"Shameful," the mirror snapped out as Sirius undid his collar and his tie, untucking his shirt and running his hand through his hair so it stood up at odd angles.

"That's exactly what I was going for," he replied to the mirror grinning and quickly running out of the room as his mother persisted in calling and threatening him. Sirius Black left his room in a slightly lighter mood; he was now a man…or a boy as it were, on a mission. He slammed the door behind him on his messy room with his trunk open on the floor.


	2. The Potters

**The Potters**

"James, James honey," came the sweet voice of a woman intercepting James dreams of dragons and wands and a troll which seemed to want him to teach it ballet.

"Wosser," muttered James, pulling the covers over himself more tightly, "Five more Mum, then I'll get up."

"James its already ten and you want to go on time don't you, for the train."

"Train, what train?" asked James stupidly opening his eyes. Everything in his room was rather blurry.

"The Hogwarts Express honey," his mother said kindly.

"Oh right," James said feeling a slight lurch of fear and excitement, "School! I'm getting up mum be down in five."

"All right honey," came his mother's kindly voice and she moved away from the door and could be heard humming all the way down the corridor.

"School," James muttered again, rolling his feet over the side of the bed. He put his face in his hands and yawned, "I just wish the train could have left an hour later."

Grabbing his glasses from his bedside cabinet he put them on and stretched. Once he had finished he looked around his room, which he probably wouldn't be seeing until Christmas. This would be the first time he would be leaving his home for a stretch of time, and he felt rather affectionate as he looked around the place. Admittedly most of his things were packed neatly in an old brown trunk at the foot of his bed (It was his father's who had insisted that James used it too though James could not fathom why, something about luck). But there were still a few fragments he couldn't fit in the trunk or which weren't worth taking with him.

The old faded poster of the English Quidditch team was still stuck on his wall (he couldn't take it off because his mum had used a Permanent Sticking Charm, though he had tried quite hard.) A few Chocolate Frog cards of people he had double fold of littered the floor. Old faded comics that he could hardly read anymore but which he kept for sentimental reasons (mainly because his Dad always seemed to smuggle them back into his room when he tried chucking them out, they had been _his_ old ones). There was also a broom he got when he was six or seven in the corner. (He was far too big for it now, but kept it because it always made him have butterflies in his stomach at the thought of his mum and dad's promise that he would get a real one when he turned twelve.) The other things in the room included a large wardrobe, a desk, a jar full of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean's, and a bed with a bedspread that changed colour depending on the atmosphere of the room. (Currently it could not seem to decide whether to be a sickly green, or a sunshine yellow.)

Looking around at all this James gave a nervous grin at the thought of leaving it all for months on end. Then shrugging he quickly grabbed the clothes his mum had left on his chair and stuffing into his jeans and English Quidditch top, (His mum had laid out his best dress shirt, but he had hastily stuffed it into his already bursting trunk and grabbed this instead). James left his room following the smell of bacon and eggs.

"Morning son," his father yawned putting down the Daily Prophet and looking at his rather hastily dressed son, who had his shirt half tucked in his pants, and one jean leg rolled up. He smiled amusedly at this, "Perhaps you'd like to fix your clothes, unless this is some new fashion among you kids I'm not aware of."

James frowned then looked down at his clothes and blushed slightly, "Oh thanks Dad,  
he muttered quickly pulling out his top and rolling down his jean leg.

"Always glad to be of service," he said smiling again. David Potter was a jolly man, with a kind smile. He had mad hair like his son which stood up at all ends, and the same brown eyes. This however was where the physical similarities ended. He was of a larger and more stocky build then his son, muscles showing through his work robes. He wore a wizard hat which always seemed to lean to the side and had a rather cheerful and amiable air, which put anyone at ease.

"Oh dear, dear me James," his mother said, turning around from the bacon and eggs which she was supervising with her wand, "What is that? I put out your best shirt for you didn't you see?"

"Ah, no mum," James muttered looking sideways, "Ah must have missed it, anyway this is nice too."

"Oh, but I did so want you to be wearing your best clothes," she sighed, quickly waving her wand and producing a plate in front of him, along with some of the bacon and eggs. "You know, make a good impression."

Emily Potter was a short lady on the petite side and almost as cheerful as her husband when he was around, though she tended to be the more practical one. Her son had inherited his pointed nose and stubborn chin from her, among other things. It was known that Emily Potter was a talented, vivacious and extremely independent woman, and it was a great surprise when she settled down with the laid-back David Potter. Emily could be fierce when James crossed the line, but most of the time whenever she went into a room she seemed to bring along sunshine.

"He's our son Emily," his Dad said, smiling as James rolled his eyes, "What better impression does he have to make, they'll be queuing up to be friends with him hey."

James grinned at his Dad. "Yes well don't expect them to be remembering us at Hogwarts David," his mother continued, "James will have to start afresh there."

"Oh come on it can't have changed that much since we've been there," his father boomed.

"Yes well Dumbledore is the Headmaster now," his mother said.

"All the better I say," said David, "Great man Dumbledore, a better man there never was."

"Yes of course he is, I was just saying the school has changed. And the grounds keeper, Ogdens has left too. Do you remember his assistant Hagrid? Well, apparently he's just taken over.'

"Ah Hagrid," said David grinning, "You'll love him son, good man too. He helped me out once in a tight spot he did. Care of Magical's Creature Exams, had no idea what to do, and Hagrid was around, you know to hand out the animal's and watch and all. He whispered a few answers to me while pretending to struggle with a bowtruckle, I'll never forget that, helped me scrape a pass he did."

"Tcha," his mother clucked from behind his father. "David what are you teaching the boy."

"Well it was a really hard exam Emily, only a few people passed. I mean for goodness sake how would I have known the difference between a Hedgehog and a knarl? And what an earth type of tree does a bowtruckle live in, I still don't know."

"You give them milk," his mother said exasperated.

"Milk, yes that would be nice dear."

"No, you give them milk to tell the difference between a Knarl and a hedgehog. And a bowtruckle is a creature that lives in wand trees. Didn't you ever listen.?"

"Well Professor Armond was always so boring you see," said his father laughing. "Smart woman your mother," said David winking at James, "If I were you I'd pray I get her brains James, all I'm good for is brawn."

"Don't talk rubbish," Emily said though she turned slightly pink, "You were never a duffer David you just never listened. I seem to recall someone getting seven OWLS, three outsanding ones too. Not of course that there's any pressure dear," she said quickly to her son as his eyes widened and he looked rather disheartened. She brushed her hand through his hair, attempting to flatten the unruly mass. "As long as you try your best we'll be proud of you no matter what you do."

"Exactly," said David smiling fondly at his son, "And even if you don't look at my cousin, he's working at Gringrotts and he failed his NEWTs…of course I'm not exactly sure what he does, something about cleaning dragon droppings…but there's always hope son."

"David," his mother snapped, but James snorted into his juice, finding this rather funny as it was notorious his father hated his grouchy cousin, and seemed to cheer up after that.

"So its about time we should be leaving," his mother said checking an old clock on the mantle, which at every hour shouted out a different thing like "Wake up lazy," or "The dinner is burning."

"Yes Emily," his father sighed, putting down the Prophet. James rose feeling rather awkward but excited at the same time. "I'll just get his trunk shall I."

With a flick of his father's wand James trunk scooted into the kitchen, almost knocking over the table, "Not in here," Emily cried out, "What one Earth David any sense."

"Sorry dear," he said rather sheepishly and quickly shooed it into the hall.

"Right then," said his mother, seeming not to know what to do with herself.

"Right," said James quickly rushing out of the kitchen after his father before his mother could get emotional.

"Er…shouldn't we be going now Dad?" James asked uncertainly, looking down at his wrist watch which read ten minutes to eleven.

"Just give your mother a minute will you," said his father seemingly unconcerned. "So, nervous?"

"No," James said quickly, his father beamed down at him knowingly but James refused to show that he felt like there were twisting snakes in his stomach.

"Don't worry son," his father said, "You'll do fine at Hogwarts, and if you get home sick you can always write."

"I won't get home sick Dad," said James his face growing hot.

"Course you won't you'll be having far too much fun. Sometimes I wish I could go back to Hogwarts, they'll be the best years of your life son."

"Yeah," James muttered not really listening but glancing at his watch again nervously.

"Of course you'll have to write when you get sorted," his father continued. "And it better be Gryffindor or else we'll like to know why."

James quickly looked up at his father with wide eyes, at his sudden dark voice and the frown he had on his face. "Kidding son," he said suddenly, a smile breaking over his face he laughed, a great big booming laugh. "But you should have seen the look on your face, I wish I had a camera. Of course we don't mind what house your in really, though I must admit as an old Gryffindor I don't feel quite so easy about Slytherin… But you should have seen your face…" he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

James tried to smile at his father's joke, though this was one of the rare occasions where he didn't find it particularly amusing at all.

"So Dad," he said cautiously after his father stopped laughing. "How exactly do they…well you know…decide what house your in?"

"Well Gryffindor's are known for bravery, Ravenclaws for cleverness, Hufflepuff's kind heartedness and Slytherins for being a load of…" he paused looking quickly at the house where Emily had not emerged from yet. He however seemed to think better of what he was going to say. "For being cunning," he finished off.

"Oh," said James quietly, "But how exactly do they sort us though, is it some sort of test or…" he trailed off lamely.

"Sorry son," said his father briskly, "Can't tell you that, it's an old Hogwarts tradition. Newcomers can't know how it happens till it does. Makes it more fun you see," he said his eyes twinkling as he tapped his nose.

"Well that's stupid," said James annoyed, "If I had a kid I'd tell them."

"Oh I doubt that very much, you'll find it's much more fun to annoy them then to keep them happy."

Before James could reply to this his mother appeared through the door, clicking it shut with her wand.

"Right got everything?" she asked in a business like manner. "I'll be taking your trunk son, and your father will be assisting you with side on Apparition. Hold on tight to him now."

James felt slightly nervous at this, his cousin had told him about splinching when he last visited and he did not at all like the sound of it. He grabbed onto his fathers arm, so tight his knuckles were white, his father did not seem to notice however.

"Right on my count," said his mother, "One, two, three.."

With that his father turned and James along with him, he felt like he was being compressed on all sides, it was the most uncomfortable experience of his life, his legs felt the worst of all, like they were unwilling to leave their place in front of his home. Finally they popped into existence once more in a dingy dark alley just off Kings cross car park. James quickly released his father and leant against the wall moving his legs to ensure they were there. He was shaking slightly.

"You all right son?" his father asked as cheerful as ever. "For a moment there I thought your legs would stay behind, but you managed to hang onto them, with a bit of help."

"Oh dear," his mother said quickly moving towards him.

"I'm fine," James quickly said, moving away from the wall in case she thought to hug him." I just…don't think I like apparition much that's all."

His father laughed at this. Then making sure there were no muggles watching he conjured a trolly for James trunk and they strolled across the car park and into King's Cross Station.

"Platform seven, platform eight, here platform nine and three quarters," his mother said, glancing at the clock. "Well we did cut it quite fine but don't worry dear."

"Uh…where's the platform mum?" James asked dumbly.

"Oh you just go straight through the wall," his mother said matter of factly.

"Through the," James began but his mother had already grabbed his hand and was rushing and his father was a little ahead of them with the trolley. It took James a moment to see him disappear through a solid wall at a run when suddenly he was through it too.

"Why you look like you've just walked through a ghost," said his father grinning down at at the look of amazement on his face.

"Yeah well, seeing as I just came through what looked like a solid wall."

"Didn't we ever tell you about the platform dear?" asked his mother frowning, "I could have sworn. Oh well…you have to hurry now…the train is going to be leaving in a few minutes."

'Oh well' James thought rather grumpily, 'it's very fine for you to say oh well' but he did not voice his thoughts. Instead he looked around him, there were hundreds of students milling around, some with owls, some with cats, and others with boxes which croaked. They ranged from around James size to his fathers, James had never seen so many people before in one place, and he looked around him his eyes wide. Smoke was billowing from a scarlet steam engine which stood waiting as students quickly rushed on, saying hurried good-byes to their parents. On its side in large letters read the Hogwarts Express.

"Now you be good," his mother said fussing with his unruly hair and trying to fix up his crumpled top. "And I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time dear." Then suddenly she gave him a hug which James felt might have broken some of his ribs and burst one of his lungs.

"Mum," he gasped trying to wriggle out of her grip and feeling himself go red. She let him go and he hastily looked around to make sure no one else had seen. All the other students were too busy getting on the train, or saying goodbye to their own parents to notice. However there was one boy that was looking at James. He had black hair and a rather haughty look, and he wore very fine clothes indeed. What looked like the boys mother and father stood beside him, the same haughty look on their faces and their noses in the air. The boys mother was holding the hand of a younger boy, presumably his brother. James caught site of an old wizened house elf crouched behind her being as unobtrusive as possible.

When the boy caught James eye he gave a sort of half grin and quickly dropped his gaze. James quickly turned to his father who was saying something.

"Hm, what Dad?"

"Well, I s'pose this is it son," his father said, and his voice had become rather gruff. James looked at his father with alarm. "I can't believe your old enough to go to Hogwarts just seemed like yesterday you were toddling around…Well don't forget to write and…yeah…"

With that his father suddenly grabbed him in a one armed hug. Between both his parents James was surprised all his bones weren't broken. Looking quickly towards the haughty boy he saw him exchanging a civilized handshake with his father, James reddened even more as the boy was staring at James father who probably appeared to be strangling him with a hug.

"Dad geroff," James muttered quickly slipping out from his father's arms.

The trains whistle blew. "Quickly on to the train now," his mother said rushing him forward.

"Righto," said his father quickly helping to lift up his trunk onto the train. James quickly hopped up behind it, the conductor was coming along, making all the last minute stragglers got on, then the train gave another large whistle and began to move slowly onwards.

"I love you honey," his mother called waving frantically.

"Write," his father boomed out.

"Bye Mum, Dad," James called leaning out of the compartment and waving to his parents, not caring what anyone else thought at the moment. He noticed however that the haughty boys family were looking at his parents with disdain as they waved. Finally the train rounded a corner and his parents were gone. James quickly put his head back in and picked up his trunk feeling a lurch of excitement. He was finally on his way to Hogwarts. Dragging his trunk behind him he headed off to find a compartment.


End file.
